Too Far In
by ooohxxmichelle
Summary: Maybe she was here because she was fat. There was no other way to put it. Pudgy, round, large, big-boned; either way she was fat, F-A-T, fat." Complete.
1. Prologue

Okay, hey everyone. Been thinking about this one all night, and I'm pretty sure I dreamt about it some too :) Since I've written two oneshots that people have seemed to like, I'm going to see how I do…on a non-oneshot.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Clique.

* * *

She could never pinpoint the exact reason why she was here right now.

Maybe it was because she wasn't as goddamn pretty as Alicia, maybe it was because she didn't have Massie's quick wit and sharp comebacks. Or maybe it was because she wasn't a kick ass soccer star like Kristen, and yes, she was even jealous of Claire Lyons. Claire Lyons of all people! The one who had come to Westchester dressed like a kid from Barney, the one who had had red paint smeared all over her ass, the one who still cried at night about _Cam Fisher_, who as everyone knew was out of her league. But still, Claire had a beautiful innocence to her, and Dylan didn't.

_It was the end of 7th __grade and yearbooks were being passed around and signed. Being as popular as the Pretty Committee, none of the girls had even seen their yearbooks all day. Finally, finally the coveted books were passed back to the right hands. Massie opened hers. There wasn't a single white space; everyone had crammed their names in hopes that Massie Block might remember them next year. _

_She read aloud, "'Massie, you kick ass! And you have the best clothes out of anyone I know'! Awww, that was sweet. 'Massie Block, your comebacks are what make me keep on living.' 'Kay that was slightly creepy, but nice all the same." _

_She snapped hers shut as Kristen opened hers. Hers, too, was covered in writing. _

"_Kristen, you're my idol, I wish I could play soccer the way you do." She smiled and continued reading, "Go Sirens! You are the best soccer player in the whole world."_

_Alicia and Claire took the time as Kristen was ranting on to look in their books. Alicia's, obviously, was filled with 'omg you are so beautiful' and 'where can I get your conditioner?', but what was surprising was that even Claire's was filled up. Being in a movie sure did boost your popularity._

_Dylan slowly opened her book expecting maybe 'I love your hair' or 'I love your purses', instead what greeted her were little bits of messy handwriting on an almost blank page. The unfamiliar scrawls read things like 'I love the TPC' and 'you're pretty cool'. Her heart shattered. Was there really nothing to say about Dylan Marvil? Although she didn't show it, maybe this was what started it all._

* * *

Maybe she was here because of her mother. Her mother, Merri-Lee Marvil, host of _the Daily Grind_, writer of the novel _Life as a Host_, Oscar Awards Ceremony regular; it was quite a mouthful. Next to her mother, Dylan felt plain, Dylan felt ugly. Due to over two hundred grand worth of surgery, Merri-Lee certainly did make Dylan look ugly. With C-cup boobs, usually barely contained in her blouse, and a perky A butt, Merri-Lee was almost an embarrassment to call a mother. But most of all, people _used _Dylan.

"_Hey," an A-list hawwttie said gruffly to Dylan. _

"_Hey, yourself," she said coyly with a giggle._

"_So what's a gorgeous lady like you doing all alone in the corner of the biggest party of the year?" he asked with a wink._

"_Well, let's just put it this way. The lady with the big boobs grinding on every man in the house, is well…My mother." Dylan grimaced._

"_Oh. Well. That can certainly ruin the best party ever." He chuckled._

"_But there's always a cute guy to turn the party around," Dylan looked at him pointedly._

"_Want to dance?"_

"_Thought you'd never ask."_

_Dylan spent the next two hours dancing, drinking, and just talking with 'Drew'. Then his drunken friend walked over. What came out of his mouth shattered the mood._

"_Dude! When I said find someone famous' daughter, I didn't think you would get Merri-Lee Marvil's daughter. That's fucking perfect!" He laughed and stumbled away._

"_Dylan I-" Drew began._

"_Save it, dumbass."_

* * *

Maybe she was here because she was fat. There was no other way to put it. Pudgy, round, large, big-boned; either way she was _fat, _F-A-T, fat. Her friends were all petite little size zeros (save for Alicia because her boobs just couldn't get into that), while Dylan just barely managed getting into a size four. It didn't help that when she was younger her favorite animal had been a pig. Every year for Halloween, Dylan would squeeze into a cute little pig costume and wander around her extravagant neighborhood. People soon began just referring to her as Piggy. The nickname stuck.

"_Pig, Pig, Piggy," the kids on the playground pointed at Dylan, screaming and laughing._

"_I'm NOT a __**pig**__!" Dylan hollered with determination.  
"Yes you are, yes you are." They teased with pleasure._

"_I'm not even fat!"_

"_Yes you are."_

"_No I'm not!"_

"_Yes you are."_

_Dylan ran to the bathroom, tear streaming down her face. She propped herself up on one of the toilets and continued crying. Was she really fat? She opened the tiny palms of her hands. Blurred by the salty tears, each finger looked round and doughy. 'My fingers look like sausages', she thought with disgust, sobbing all the more harder and harder._

Five years later, she was stuck in the same position. Kemp and Chris' emails had really hit a home run. The word Piggy just triggered something in her that made her want to lash out at the world.

Whatever the reason, Dylan Marvil was here.

Dylan Marvil was on the third floor, D-wing bathroom of BOCD, on her knees, vomiting the contents of her lunch into the inviting, white toilet bowl.

* * *

Oh wow, that was certainly long for me. So give me some feedback please, and tell me if you want me to write more, because if you don't, I guess I could end this here…?

Anyways you guys all rock. _REVIEW, LOVES!_

Michelle :)


	2. On her Knees

Chapter two! :) First chapter two I've ever written. _Excited._

Well lucky you guys, it's Easter, and since the most exciting thing I've done all day was dye some eggs so many different colors they came out all like little turds, I'm writing another chapter to hopefully get some reviews, that will hopefully boost my mood. _Whoa, run on sentence._

So, knock yourselves out!

* * *

Dylan sat in the back of Massie's Range Rover eyeing the rows of soda and snacks. She resisted the urge to grab every single Claire's gummy worms, she resisted the urge to drink Kristen's entire chocolate energy shake, because she knew if she started, she'd never stop. Suddenly Massie's voice snapped her back to reality.

"Dyl, what's wrong?" Massie's face scrunched into a concerned pout.

Alicia and Kristen stopped braiding each others' hair and Claire turned the TV down.

"Yeah, what's wrong Dylan?"

They all turned to stare at her and she avoided their sympathetic looks. She didn't want pity; losers got pity, geeks got pity, most of all _fat pigs _got pity.

"I'm fine," Dylan muttered almost inaudibly.

"Dylan. Tell us what's wrong." It was a command.

"Nothing."

"Dylan." Massie's voice edged on suspicion.

"NOTHING!" Dylan opened the door to the moving car.

"DYLAN! What the fuck are you doing?!" Massie's screaming echoed in her ears.

"I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here." Dylan jumped out of the car and took off running on the road, leaving behind a carful of stunned girls along with a thick air of distrust.

* * *

Dylan wasn't much of a runner, but the thought of Alicia's pretty face looking at her in disdain, or Massie Block's cruel jokes taunting her after she jumped out of the car made her sprint like there was no tomorrow. Her heart pounded in her ears, _thump, thump, thump. _Dylan skidded to a stop in front of a local diner. The sign that read "Delicious food served 24/7" mocked her. She had promised she wasn't going to do it again, but then again who kept promises anyway? Dylan's pace quickened with every step she took, and she soon found herself at the counter ordering "one of everything."

The food was served with a greasy sheen. Dylan didn't hesitate to begin. Every bite she ate, memories of her friends flew around in her head. _Everyone sitting around at the pool in their bikinis, while Dylan covered up in a one piece. _**Chew, Chew, Swallow. **_Everyone eating three slices of pizza at Massie's birthday party, while Dylan nibbled the crust of one. _**Chew, Chew, Chew. **_Boys flirting with all of the girls, while Dylan sat in the corner reading diet tips from a magazine. _**Swallow, Chew, Swallow.**

As soon as she was finished she drank an entire soda in one breath. It was time, Dylan decided, to face what she was trying to hide from all day. She wasn't going to stop puking up everything she ate because when she did, it felt like she had actually accomplished something. Dylan felt high, she felt on fire. She slid on finger down her throat, felt her stomach contract slightly, and hunched over releasing everything she had eaten. Somewhere along the way, Dylan had regained new self confidence. As she stepped out of the stall, she looked at herself in the mirror. _Perfect._

* * *

Merri-Lee Marvil was home for once. Dylan took it as misfortune rather than as an omen. Merri-Lee did nothing but constantly compare her to her friends, and embarrass the living daylights out of her.

"Dyl Pickles!" Merri-Lee's shrill newscaster voice cut through the air.

"Hey, Merri-Lee," Dylan answered dejectedly.

"How many times have I told you to call me _mother_?" A frown perched on Merri-Lee's pretty face (courtesy of Dr. Gellar).

"_Mother_, more guys flirt with you than they do with me, you are out partying more than a college student, and you call my friends to _hang out. _There is nothing motherly about that." Dylan snapped.

"Hey, whoa, take it down a notch tiger. Whatever, do whatever. Just stay out of my way, I've got a date who's coming over in ten minutes. Au Revior!" Ms. Marvil waltzed out of the room.

Soon after the doorbell rang Dylan heard muttering voices, some flirty giggles from Merri-Lee, some deep growling, and pretty soon some screaming in the next room.

She turned her iPod up, disgusted with her mother's juvenile behavior. _Her mom was near forty and still getting laid every night, whereas she was a ripe sixteen and still a virgin. It was sickening. _

Dylan soon found herself in the kitchen, staring at the tall ceiling-to-floor pantry. Although it was filled with health food, Dylan had found if you pushed it all aside, inside lay chips and candy galore. She pulled it all down from the shelves and spread it out across the floor and sat down criss-cross Indian-style. As the screaming from the bedroom increased, so did the speed Dylan ate.

On October 3rd, at 12:43 am, Dylan Marvil found herself yet again kneeling down in front of a toilet.

* * *

Ahh. Ew writing Dylan's mother's sex scenes. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Special thanks to a great book called _Perfect_ about a bulimic girl, because otherwise I'd never been able to write about her puking up all her food.

Please, please, please make this the best Easter ever and review, review, review!

_Note: _Thank you especially to everyone who put this story on their alerts :)


	3. Denial

Since I got few reviews, you guys don't deserve this.

But thanks to ps269, who told me from a former bulimic's point of view that I was doing alright, I decided to give everyone more :)

Enjoy!

* * *

Dylan veered off into a dimly lit classroom when she saw her angry friends coming down the hall, clearly wanting an explanation. She hadn't eaten lunch with them, but instead went into the cafeteria to "study".

"Dylan, do you think we're retarded?" Massie's voice rang loud and clear.

"No." Dylan had no choice but to answer in a quiet squeak.

"Then get your fat ass out here and tell me exactly what's going on." Massie spoke sharply.

_Fat ass, fat ass, fat ass. _The word ran through her head; over, over, and over again.

"Massie! That was mean." Dylan heard Claire shove Massie.

"Well if she's going to Jackie Chan herself out of my car and figure she doesn't have some serious shit to explain then she is clearly on _something._"

This time Dylan heard Kristen, "Massie, maybe she's just PMS-ing, it's no big deal. I mean, when you are on your period–"

"She was on her period two weeks ago."

"Maybe it's extreme PMS, you know...for next time."

"Oh shut up Kristen."

While Kristen and Massie battled out their knowledge of the female menstrual cycle, Dylan had managed to slip out and run down the hallway, narrowly escaping Alicia who had seen her.

"Gawd, seriously, there is something up with her." Alicia pitched in.

"I'll find out, don't worry about it." A mischievous glint lit in Massie's eyes.

* * *

Dylan crumpled into a small, helpless heap on the bathroom floor.

_Fat ass, fat ass, fat ass. _Massie's words were playing on a broken record; repeating themselves non-stop until Dylan broke down.

Opening her backpack, she pulled out a large bag of chips and soda. She ate the chips in handfuls, crumbs spewing everywhere. The chips and the soda burned her throat and gave her some sort of heartburn but it felt relaxing, to some degree. Kind of like when a cutter has a razor, Dylan felt that sensation that released pain. The pain of her friends' perfection, the pain of her mother's stupidity, the pain of not being skinny in a world of size zeroes. Finally, she once again got down on her knees, and released her meal into the toilet. Wiping her mouth, she stood up. As she walked out of the stall, four pairs of shocked eyes stared bluntly at her.

"Dylan..."

"Save it."

"Dylan...are you...bulimic?" Massie's voice was shaky and unsteady.

"No." Dylan was almost expecting on of Massie's signature put-downs.

"Dylan..." Kristen's eyes were filled with tears, "What are you doing to yourself?"

"I'm not doing anything." She looked in the mirror. Her eyes were red and watery, and she could still taste the throw-up in her mouth as she lied to her best friends.

"Why?" Alicia massaged her temples and looked at Dylan with disappointment.

"How can I answer that if I'm not doing anything?" She paused to control her shaking jaw.

"There is nothing wrong with the way you look, Dylan. Honestly. I wish I was as pretty as you were." Claire's big blue eyes stared up at Dylan with that lovable innocence she hated so much.

"Shut up, Claire." Dylan snapped, "You're as beautiful as anything, and you know it. Stop trying to make me feel better. It's clear I'll never be as good as any of you."

With that, Dylan tore out the door, sighing with relief to finally escape the horrid confrontation.

* * *

Walking into the main entrace of her house, Dylan was greeted by Glinda, the maid.

"Hey Glind." Dylan attempted smiling, but only managed a slight grimace.

"Ms. Dee-lan, your mother want to talk to you. She is in study." Glinda spoke slowly in broken English.

_Oh joy_.

She made sure to walk loudly, stamping each foot on the cold marble floor, hoping if her mom had any _visitors _over they would _get out._

"Geez Dylan, no need to walk like an elephant."

_Elephant. Elephant. Elephant._

"Hey, _mother._" Dylan spoke pointedly.

"Hello, _daughter._" Ms. Marvil mocked.

"Glinda said you wanted to talk to me? I've got to admit, I was surprised. I thought for sure you have plenty of _men_ to talk to."

"Don't give me attitude, Dylan Elise."

"Oh, so _now_ you act like my mother."

"I don't _try_ to be a bad mother."

"You don't try to be a mother at all."

"Dylan Elise Marvil! That's it. If you say one more word you're grounded." Merri-Lee's face was near pink.

Dylan's mouth opened to retort–

"Good. Now, we have some issues to discuss."

"Such as..."

"Well, some of your friends called today."

_What the fuck?!_

"And they told me something about your... how should I put this... _problem?_" Merri-Lee continued.

"It's not true, and if it was, I would promise not to do it again." Dylan's lips were pressed tightly in a thin line. And as cliché as it was, she crossed her fingers behind her back.

"Good girl. Bye!" Her mother waved and swiveled back around in her big, black leather chair.

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Dylan's heart pounded.

"Yeah. Why? What else do you want me to say?"

"Nothing." Her pounding heart dropped to floor. _Did her mother honestly not even care Dylan was throwing up? What would it take to get her attention?_

* * *

_Elephant. Elephant. Elephant. _Her mother's words were on a continuous reel. _Fat ass, fat ass, fat ass. _Massie's comments weren't far from her mind either.

_Fat ass elephant. _The words encouraged her to finish two helpings of dinner, ice cream, and leftover cake. The words also motivated Dylan to, yet again, leave her meal in the brassy toilet.

* * *

Sorry that was still depressing, don't worry it's going to get happier. And sorry for the extreme amounts of dialogue.

I hope you guys enjoyed :) If you _really **really**_** really **enjoyed you would review. Please?

And remember, constructive criticism is my boyfriend.

Always, Michelle.


	4. Acceptance

Hey everyone :) Special thanks to Wingzz who beta-ed this for me, you rock!

Make this the best birthday ever and review, thanks!

Enjoy!

* * *

_I've been thinking, take me now, I'm in too far  
Can't stop feeling, doesn't matter who you are  
This could be my last goodbye  
You could stay, I'll be alright  
I've been thinking, take me now, I'm in too far  
-Acceptance_

Dylan sat sullenly on cold, stone steps of Briarwood-Octavian Country Day School, holding her iPod in the frozen palm of her hand. With her grey hoodie pulled up over her ears, she almost blended in with the stairs.

_Honk!_ The sudden noise made Dylan jump a foot in the air.

"Dyl, come on, get in!" Massie's face popped out from the barely cracked window of the Range Rover.

"Nah, I'm good," Dylan mumbled.

"Dylan…come on! We can do something fun! We can get our nails done! We can go to the spa!" Massie's chocolatey locks whipped around in the breeze.

"Shopping!" Alicia shouted, sounding muffled.

"Seriously, Massie, I'm fine. Dave's picking me up soon."

"No big, I already called him, and he's cool with it." Massie blinded Dylan with a sparkling smile.

"Fine, fine," she grumbled reluctantly and trudged to the car.

"So let's play…would you rather?" Alicia squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

"No thanks." Dylan shrugged.

"Whyyy?" The girl drew out the word, making it loud and whiny.

"Just not in the mood."

"You're honestly boring." Alicia yawned, "—_ow!_" She was cut off by Claire, who whacked her in the arm.

"Hey Massie…where are we?" Dylan looked out the window at a white building, complete with a steel gate and a metal sign that read "Westchester Regional Clinic for Rehabilitation".

"_MASSIE BLOCK_!" Dylan's shriek ricocheted off the insides of the car.

"What?" Massie's amber eyes stared at Dylan with fake innocence.

"I…you…cannot…what…_I HATE YOU_!" Dylan spat, as her face grew several shades darker to match her fiery red curls.

"You need help, Dylan." Alicia, Claire, and Kristen bobbed their heads in agreement.

"I'm FINE!" Dylan's eyes welled up with tears.

"Come on Dylan, let's go…" Claire grabbed her arm with more force than Dylan had ever imagined Claire could muster.

"Let. Me. OUT!" Dylan fought, kicking her feet in the air.

* * *

Massie won. Massie always won.

Dylan slumped against the intensely white walls of her room, _room 702. _She tore her "name tag" off her shirt in rage. It fell to the floor, and the words began to swirl around as Dylan's eyes filled with tears. _Patient number 54. _One lone drop smeared the ink.

"Hey sweetie, you okay?" A nurse's face popped into the room.

"Shut up," Dylan growled.

"Honey, you want to talk?"

"Fuck off."

The nurse left huffing in fury.

Dylan reached into her backpack to look for anything to eat, anything to throw up. Unfortunately, every last crumb had been confiscated at security. She sighed loudly, and then began pacing the room. The bland room contained a rectangular bed with bright white sheets, and a small wooden desk with a spotless vanity mirror. It was exactly how she imagined a jail cell in a prison in hell. Inspired by a sudden jolt of anger, she tore the sheets off her bed and threw them across the room. She wrote swear words on the mirror with her eyeliner, and used her lip liner to draw designs over the scarily colorless walls. All the while, screaming at the top of her lungs.

* * *

"So Ms. Marvil, can you tell me what motivated you to make yourself throw up your meals?" the therapist asked, in a heavy southern accent. _Some therapist. The fat bitch gets paid to ask questions to people she doesn't even give a shit about._

"Uh…I was bored?" Dylan picked at her nails.

"Well, when _I'm _bored, I do something I am passionate about. Sometimes I read or sometimes I play piano." The therapist bared her stained yellow fangs.

"Maybe you should have spent that time brushing your teeth," Dylan muttered.

"What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Listen, Dylan, sweetie, I know at your age, children tend to think their overweight, or fat, but the truth is, as long as _you're_ happy with what you look like, it doesn't matter what other people think."

"What if _I_ think I'm fat?"

"You need to change your outlook on life, Dylan," The therapist continued.

"Whatever."

"Look, hon, about one hundred patients pass through me each year, and I'm telling you, every single one, yes, that's _every single one_, has stopped starving themselves or throwing up." The therapist hit every word with a southern twang.

"Look, hon," Dylan mocked, "I'm sure you'll make a real _difference_ in my life." Each word oozed sarcasm, but had seemed to satisfy the therapist.

"Very well, Ms. Marvil. Please take a look at this slide show."

A montage of pictures began to flip on the white screen behind the therapist. Each picture was more gruesome than the next, ranging from girls making themselves throw up, to girls skinnier than a toothpick from starving themselves. She had started off bored and uninterested, but as the movie progressed, Dylan sat up straighter in her chair. She shuddered each time, _was this really what she was doing to herself?_ An image of a bulimic girl's intestines clicked onto the wall. Dylan felt her stomach churn; _did her intestines look like that?_

After the slide show finished, the screen turned black. They sat in a stony silence for a while until Dylan murmured softly.

"I think I have a problem."

* * *

Wanna hear the weirdest coincidence ever? Well, I was planning this chapter to be called "Acceptance" in the beginning. And I had called this story, "Too Far In", not because of the song, just because. So when I found this song, I was like, wow, perfect. Then I looked at the band. And it was called Acceptance. LIKE OMG! :)

Haha, well anyways. REVIEW LOVES!

Always, Michelle.


	5. Lucky

God, I have to learn how to punish you guys for not reviewing. Oh well, it's too bad I love this story so. :\

Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

Sitting on the bed in her bland room, Dylan scribbled away on a thick stationary paper as if her life depended on it. Her eyebrows furrowed together and she chewed her pencil like a frustrated second grader. Black ink smeared across the paper where Dylan had scribbled over and over. The guidance counselor, whose name Dylan had yet to learn, had told her to write letters to her friends and family.

"Dylan, sweetie, you don't have to write apology letters or anything of a sort. Just a letter to tell them what you're feeling; why you did what you did," She had said.

Dylan read over her letter to Massie.

_Dear Massie Block, _

_You've been one of my best friends for as long as I remember. And as far as I know, I've been one of your best friends. But seeing as you ratted me out, I don't really consider you much of a friend anymore. There's not much more to say except this: treat Kristen, Claire, and Alicia with more respect than you ever gave me._

_Dylan Marvil_

It was too harsh, wasn't it? It wasn't like she hated Massie; after all if it weren't for her, Dylan could have been possibly dead by now. Of course, she still couldn't believe what Massie had done to her; telling her mom, kidnapping her and taking her to the clinic. What kind of best friend would do that? Quickly, before she could change her mind, Dylan licked the seal and glued it shut, labeling Massie in swirly handwriting on the front of the cream-colored envelope. _Ahh, that was cleansing._

She picked up another crisp sheet of paper from her stationary pack. Time for Merri-Lee's letter, she thought with a grimace. Each sentence was worse than the next ranging from "you're the worst mother I've ever met", to "can you please stop having sex with twenty year old men?". Each time she crossed the sentences out; they just weren't harsh enough, they weren't anything Dylan hadn't already said to her face. Finally, she summed up all of her feelings in one sentence.

_Merri-Lee Marvil_

_Fuck you._

_Dylan Marvil…you know, your daughter?_

Addressing each letter, she threw them into the _send_ bin at the end of her hall.

* * *

"So welcome to the EDRG, also known as the ederg," a nice-looking blonde lady said, getting a chuckle out of the patients.

A shy girl in the corner of the room with short, layered black hair raised her hand, "What's that?"

"It stands for Eating Disorder Recovery Group, which is pretty much a fancy name for a group that gets together twice a week with the counselor and we discuss things together, you know, create a bond, a family, stuff like that," the lady said to the girl reassuringly.

The girl gave a short nod and quickly turned back around towards her little corner. Dylan gave the rest of them a quick scan and sighed in disgust the extremely LBR-ish group.

"So we're going to start with introductions; I'll start and you guys can follow my example, okay?" She clapped excitedly, but the rest of the group seemed distant and uninterested.

"Alright," she continued perkily, "I'm Katherine—but you can call me Kat—Winfrey, no, sorry, I am not related to Oprah," she paused chuckling at her own joke, "I'm almost thirty years old, I have an amazing husband Stanley, and I am a graduate of Michigan State."

The group applauded politely and she smiled. She pointed to Dylan, who was unfortunately seated to her left.

"So I'm Dylan Marvil, and actually I am related to Merri-Lee Marvil. She's my pathetic excuse of a mother. You should probably just call me Dylan. I'm sixteen, I am currently single, and I _went _to Briarwood-Octavian." She spoke curtly.

The group once again applauded respectfully.

"Oh, I didn't mean you had to follow my example _exactly_; but that was very interesting Dylan, and I'm astonished that you're related to Merri-Lee from the Daily Grind! I watch that show every morning," Kat said in awe.

"It's like my mother follows me around like a conspiracy," Dylan muttered quietly under her breath.

"Okay, your turn!" Kat pointed.

The girl had thick masses of creamy blonde hair, a clear complexion, a nice defined cheekbones, Dylan noted. If she took off the monstrosity that she called glasses, this girl might have some cute potential.

"I'm Mia," her voice was raspy and low. Kat smiled at Mia encouragingly motioning for her to continue.

"Nah, that's it. I'm Mia," the girl repeated.

"Okay…that's okay, I'm sure when you get to know the group better, you'll be more open to sharing your feelings," Kat said in a supportive tone. Smiling at an overweight brunette girl, she motioned for her to begin.

"Hey," the girl grinned broadly exposing an uneven bucktooth, beaver-like mouthful of teeth, "I'm Maddie, I'm fifteen, and I'm really, really excited to be here."

Dylan gaped at her in disbelief; what did they do? Drug her? There was no way in hell anyone would voluntarily want to be in this room, excluding Kat, unless they were on ecstasy or something of a sort. The girl noticed the fifteen other shocked members of the group and suddenly became conscious.

"I mean, I don't want to be here, really, I was like dragged in here like a two year old," Maddie said in a rush, trying to cover up her mistake. Dylan understood now. She was a follower. The girl always looking to be accepted, the girl who would never wear lime green unless everyone else was, the girl who would stop breathing if people said it wasn't cool.

Kat's forehead was scrunched up into wrinkles, clearly not understanding what had made the girl change her mind. Luckily for Maddie, Kat shook it off quickly and proceeded to pointing to another girl, seated as far away as possible from the group, curled up in a ball.

"I don't want to."

"Please, do, share with us."

"Listen to me, I'll share when I want to." The girl clearly had an attitude.

"The point of this group is to share your experiences with each other so you can learn from mistakes." Kat frowned.

"Okay. I'll share my experiences. I have _experienced _my mother being shot in the head, I have _experienced _my father raping me, and I have _experienced_ seventeen years of homelessness, drug abuse, and pregnancies. So pretty much my _experiences _are a hell of a lot worse than any of this shit that anyone else is fucking off about. Just letting you know; you think you're screwed? Think again." Her eyes were filling with tears and her voice shook angrily as she yelled the word experience. With that, she fled from the room.

Stunned by the girl's horrifying life story, Dylan suddenly realized how lucky she was.

* * *

You know, I haven't really decided if I like this chapter. It's not my worst, I guess.

Anyways...Read. Review. Repeat. (it's like the fanfiction version of live, laugh, love)

Oh god, I make myself laugh.

Always, Michelle.


	6. Unexpected Visitors

Sorry for not writing in over like two months or something…I've been extremely, extremely, extremely busy.

Enjoy (:

* * *

How many days had it been? Referring to the large black and white calendar taped messily to the wall, she counted thirty days. A whole month in this hell-hole. Although she still felt the urge to throw up whenever she thought of her friends, her mother, the life she left behind, Dylan felt considerably cured. She smiled more often. She laughed when necessary. It wasn't the same, but under all conditions, she was proud; proud of her accomplishments. The feeling was so rare, that it soon ducked back into hiding.

She lay down on her bed, staring at the white walls, which she had been forced to clean after destructing them on the first day of arrival. The beep of the intercom cut through the still, silent air, and Dylan jumped up and pressed talk.

"Ms. Dylan Marvil, room number 702?" an unhealthily perky voice bubbled over the speaker.

"Yes," Dylan answered uncertainly. The only other time she'd ever been beeped was to be notified of her appointment with her therapist.

"You have visitors."

"What? No, no—tell Massie Block to go bother someone that cares," the harsh words spewed out. Just when life had been taking a turn for the better.

"Dylan, it's not Massie." Suddenly a familiar male voice interrupted the speaker.

"Who is it?" she was filled with suspicion.

"Just let us in."

"Who's us?" Dylan was even more confused.

"Just fucking let us in," the voice demanded.

"Fine, fine, let them in."

* * *

Several minutes later, a low knocking began on her door. She slowly plodded to the door and flung the door open to reveal—

"Dylan, hey," the guys' soccer team chorused.

Derrick Harrington leaned over and gave her a hug. Not a pity hug, not a you're a loser hug. An honest to god, we're here for you kind of hug. It felt so good, she hugged him back.

"What are you guys doing here?" She exclaimed in half delight, half frustration. As much as she enjoyed having people to visit her, she felt sort of singled out, sort of like the weird chick in rehab.

"Well, we…heard. You're too good to waste your life like this, Dylan. We thought you'd need some cheering up. Rehab people aren't so good at that," Cam Fisher chimed in with a twinkle is his blue-and-green eyes.

"And…we need to…well, apologize. What we did was shitty beyond belief. If you hate us, it's not a problem. You did _not_deserve that hell we put you through," Chris Plovert continued stonily. Kemp Hurley's face popped in, nodding.

"You _guys_!" the smile on Dylan's face was unforgettable. She hadn't smiled like that in so long.

"So, we brought you all sorts of presents, goodies, flowers, you name it. Plus, we're hear to entertain you. No pervertedness intended," Derrick chuckled. He motioned for the boys in the back (Dylan didn't know them quite as well), to bring out the presents. Out came bags, boxes, and flower bouquets. She gasped; they definitely overdid it. Not that she minded.

"Oh, wow. Thank you!" Dylan didn't know where to turn first.

"Well, some of the guys have to go, 'cause Coach will kill them if they miss practice. Plus, they're wimps. We're gonna stay though, 'cause we're not babies like them," Derrick mocked jokingly and stuck his tongue out at the boys who were silently slipping out the door.

"You want to talk about anything?" Cam rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"How are…" her voice trailed off.

"Hm, pretty good. They've been distant lately, I guess, because they're scared for you. People just like walk up to them and ask if you're dying, and they're scared to death 'cause they don't really even know. In health the other day, we were talking about…well, eating disorders, and Massie Block, out of all people, started breaking down crying." Cam looked at her sadly, almost disappointed that she hadn't kept in touch with them.

"So what's it like, taking classes with girls?" Dylan asked curiously.

"_Sick_!" Kemp punched a fist in the air. Dylan giggled; it was nice to know he hadn't changed.

"Easier to look up girls' skirts now, isn't it, Kemp?" Dylan teased. He chuckled with her.

"Only 'cause that's the farthest he can get with a girl," Josh, who had been questionably quiet, chimed in.

"Burn…" the guys teased, all punching each other. Dylan hadn't felt this alive in what felt like years. Who knew a good dose of the Briarwood boys was what she needed?

"Let's play some cards," Kemp pointed to a deck of all new Bicycle cards.

For the next two hours, Dylan Marvil sat in a circle, criss-cross apple-sauce surrounded by Kemp Hurley, Chris Plovert, Derrick Harrington, Cam Fisher, and Josh Hotz, laughing until her abs hurt, smiling until her face hurt, and talking until her throat hurt.

* * *

"I _WIN_!!" Derrick stood up and mooned them. He hadn't won a single game all afternoon, until now. He took off his shirt and threw it at Josh, who had won six games of Egyptian Rat Screw in a row. Dylan chucked her cards at Derrick, cackling at the sight of him running around, with his shirt off. A nurse knocked loudly on the door.

"Is everything _okay_ in there?" she seemed annoyed.

"YES!" they chorused in unison.

"Shit. It's almost nine. We've gotta split," Chris said, eyeing the alarm clock.

They grabbed their stuff, heading towards the door. Each one hugged Dylan, meaningful hugs, and wished her good luck. It was what Cam Fisher had told her that made her feel ready to face tomorrow.

"Dylan, you're a beautiful girl. As corny as it sounds, we're all rooting for you. Dylan, _you_ can be the change in your life. Don't ever give up."

* * *

Ahhhhh…. Had to throw in those guys.

Btw- I do not intend for any couples in this story so don't get all pairing-ish on me. This is a solely Dylan-centered story. They guys are just great friends.

Always, Michelle.


	7. Love

It's the end. I know it wasn't very long, but it's the end of something that should have been finished a long time ago.

Enjoy! (:

* * *

"Okay everyone," Amanda Cross, the head manager, instructed, "be quiet, okay? The guests are about to arrive, okay?"

Dylan turned to Mia, whom she had become good friends with and silently mouthed _okay_, mocking the manager's excessive use of the word. Mia giggled quietly into her hand, concealing her mouth with her palm so Amanda wouldn't yell at her.

"Okay, _what_ is so funny?" Amanda shot a stern look at Dylan and Mia, which caused them to burst into another fit of laughter.

The entire group sat in large cushy black chairs lined in a row against the back wall of the stage. A thick velvety red curtain hung in front of them, and soon they began to hear faint murmurs seeping in through the bottom of the drapes of audience beginning to arrive. A familiar tinkling laughter filled the air, and Dylan felt her stomach contract. _Merri-Lee Marvil._ Mia saw Dylan's smile drop and draped an arm around her shoulders.

"You okay, Dylan?" she asked, smiling at her use of the word _okay_.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," Dylan responded with a forced smile.

She stood up from her seat and tiptoed to the edge of the curtain and peeked out from the side. The auditorium was filled, ranging from grandmothers in wheelchairs to infants, crying and whining. Dylan scanned the audience and felt her head begin to spin. Why had she thought she could handle this? There were so many people. So many people she knew. Allison Delaney, the president of the rehabilitation clinic, began to walk up to the podium, shoes clicking, as the lights dimmed.

"Welcome everyone. You're all here to witness a special day. I say this every time we hold an Honors ceremony because the truth is, every time _is_ really a special day. These young adults have changed so much since arriving here and today you'll be the first ones to observe the transformation. We'll start with a guest speaker, an alumni from Westchester Rehabilitation, one of our very own, Carrie Smith. Please give a round of applause for Ms. Smith."

A young woman, no older than twenty five, rose from the black VIP box and stepped towards the microphone.

"I'm going to make this short because it's not very difficult to understand. The staff and therapist here at Westchester Rehab Center are probably the bravest people you will ever meet. They work their hardest every day to make a difference in these children's lives, and whether they are successful or not, they don't give up. They were the change in my life, and they were the change for them. Never forget them, because they will never forget you," Carrie said, eyes filling with tears. She quickly wiped them away with a flick of her finger and continued, "Please welcome this years' graduates."

A round of applause followed and Carrie took a seat.

"Each time we have this ceremony, we choose someone—someone who has worked their very hardest to fight against their eating disorders—to give a little speech. Whether it be about their experience here at Westchester Rehab, or an excerpt on how life has taken a turn for them, this speech is truly inspiring. Let's give a warm welcome and the spotlight to… Dylan Marvil," Allison beamed at Dylan.

Dylan's heart jolted. What? They thought Dylan Marvil—out of all the patients—had worked the hardest? Had improved the most? Mia squeezed her shoulder and gave her an encouraging grin.

She worked her way slowly to the center of the stage, feeling more or less embarrassed have people stare at her. Looking down at the hundreds of eyes gaze up at her, she inhaled sharply. Who was here? Oh yes, the Briarwood boys in the left corner. Her mother, her sisters, and who was that? Massie Block? Alicia? Kristen and Claire? A wave of panic swept over her. Even so, she was determined to finish strong.

"I haven't been here for very long, but let me tell you something, the Westchester Rehabilitation Clinic isn't that clinic you see on TV, where all the clients get their money conned out of them. Everyone at Westchester Rehab cares about _you_. They want to make you stronger, prepare you for the harsh world outside. The world isn't a box of chocolates and rainbow bunnies. You should see girls at schools these days. They tear even their closest friends up. At one point, every single girl is a victim. It's like war out there. Westchester Rehab knows that. They help you in every single aspect. Before I came here, I was someone not even I wanted to be associated with. Now, I stand here, someone I'm proud to have become. I can say, 'I'm Dylan Marvil, and I fought an eating disorder.' I can say, 'I'm Dylan Marvil, and I don't care if I wear a size 6 because I look good.' Most of all, I'm proud to be Dylan Marvil. I want to apologize for everything I've done, and you know who I'm talking to. Westchester Rehabilitation Clinic has taught me so many important life lessons that I'll never forget. Thank you everyone!" Dylan finished.

The applause was deafening. The crowd was on their feet before the last word. Whistles, cat calls, hoots. Dylan smiled into the crowd.

The loudest people in the crowd, Dylan noted, were the people she thought she didn't need in her life.

Massie, Alicia, Kristen, and Claire were standing on chairs, jumping up and down screaming until they were red in the face. Her mother was smiling broadly, and telling anyone who happened to listen, "that's my baby girl!" The soccer boys were whistling, giving her a thumbs up, cheering her on.

Everyone had always been there for her. Even her mother, even if not all of the time, was there now, rooting for Dylan, tears filling her eyes.

Dylan's biggest support team was her friends and family, she just hadn't realized it until now.

The old Dylan wouldn't have wanted to recognize the emotions she was having. The old Dylan would have pushed it away.

The new Dylan knew the exact word to capture the feeling. _Love._

* * *

And there you have it.

I'm writing something new soon.

Watch for it!

Finished 6/30/08.


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